


An Unkindness of Ravens

by Prochytes



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prochytes/pseuds/Prochytes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thought and memory. In the end, they’re all that matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unkindness of Ravens

**Author's Note:**

> No significant spoilers.

 

Clint was the first to notice them. This was only to be expected. The hawk, proverbially, notices a lot. Especially the flight of other birds.

 

“Greatcoat – corner of the third alleyway behind us.” Clint did not bother to add “Don’t turn around”. That was superfluous, when talking to Natasha. “I made him in Boston. And Basel. And Shanghai.”

 

“Solo?” Six oncoming HYDRA agents became an assault-course and then a heap before Natasha resumed, “or part of a crew?”

 

“A double-act. There’s a woman.” Clint selected a grenade-tip and lined up a shot on the airship. “Not as easy to make – she changes clothes. They’re subtle about it, but they’re co-ordinating.”

 

“Are they looters?  Vultures?”

 

“They’re scavengers. I can tell you that. But the m. o.’s smooth. Vultures are obvious, ungainly.” Clint took the shot, and watched the pilots bail. “These are ravens.”

 

***

 

“They aren’t always there.” Bruce took a gulp of his orange juice, and resettled his glasses on his nose. “From what Hawkeye’s been saying, it looks like they turn up when there’s going to be a big, public throw-down – something everyone can see coming in advance. Something that’s likely to mean a lot of collateral damage.”

 

The man who held collateral damage on a leash frowned at the juice he had spilt on his cuff, and dabbed at it ineffectually for a moment before continuing:

 

“They’re clever. Stark’s pulled up the CCTV from the sites. There isn’t a single clear shot of their faces.”

 

“You’ve seen them looting on the film, though.” _Looting._ Steve’s voice was calm, but Bruce thought about Berlin in 1945, and how the idea of that would play to the best of soldiers. He hurried on:

 

“That’s where it gets weird. They hit banks, museums, big private residences... anywhere security gets compromised by the fight. They’re certainly taking _something_. But they walk straight past gems and cash and art treasures to get it. They always know what they want, and it’s never money. And then there’s the... other stuff.”

 

“Other stuff?”

 

“Greatcoat sucker-punched one of the HYDRAs that got past our cordon in Brussels. The woman pulled a little girl off a collapsing ledge in Shanghai. I’m not convinced that these two are just thieves.”  
  


“Maybe.” Tony glanced up from surfing the Web. “Or maybe that just helps them sleep at nights. Whatever they’re up to, we need to know.”

 

“How are we going to do that?” Bruce drained his glass.“They only show when we have our hands full, remember.”

 

“So, we make time. Not literally, of course. Well, not yet, anyway.” Tony sighed. “I do have this plan for a Chronal Pulse Cannon...”

 

***

 

The woman’s plumage was predominantly black. It was a choice that Natasha’s private (and entirely detachable) taste quite esteemed. She cleared her throat.

 

“Hello. We’ve been hoping to find you.”

 

“I know. And we’ve been hiding.” The woman was either genuinely from South Wales or too good at faking the accent for Natasha to tell, which was hard to manage. “We’ve had a lot of practice, these last few years. How did you find me, as a matter of interest?”

 

“The same way Barton finds me. I didn’t look. I went where _I_ would go, and opened my eyes.” Natasha advanced. The woman’s gun-hand lifted a fraction. “Be aware that I can disarm you of that piece before you can use it.”

 

“And the knife, too?”

 

Mjölnir sailed between the two of them. Something exploded. Something usually did. Natasha smiled faintly:

 

“And _both_ the knives.”

 

Mjölnir sailed back the other way. The Welshwoman sighed, and lowered her gun.

 

“I’m sure you’re right. I know your reputation.”

 

“Thank you. What is it that you have taken, this time?”

 

The Welshwoman held up a small, spherical object. “A Dogon Sixth Eye. Lets you hang on for a while when you should be gone.” A shadow passed across her face. “Quite appropriate, really. And I’ll tell you one more thing....”

 

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

 

“...the lads your mates are fighting _didn’t_ do their homework.”

 

At this point, one of the villains _du jour_ decided to drop an office block on Bruce. This, inevitably, inflicted a lot more damage on the Skyscraper Index than it was ever going to do to the Other Guy. When the dust had cleared, the Welshwoman was gone.

 

***

 

It was a couple of months before the scavengers were seen again.

 

The troublemakers on this occasion called themselves The Wrecking Crew, because nothing strikes fear into the heart like naming yourself after the first trade you happen to find in a directory. Thor was adamant that Loki had to be pulling these bozos’ strings, but Tony was disposed to doubt that he was the source of their name. Say what you would about Horn-Helmet: at least he knew his way around a thesaurus.

 

There was a pretty big fracas. Cars were more than a little thrown around. But the only thing that Tony remembered in detail afterwards was the moment when Steve looked up and locked gazes with Greatcoat Guy, who had snuck in closer than usual to the main event.

 

The two regarded each other, across the width of the street.  Steve’s breathing hitched, and Tony (who had always prided himself on being a kid in the biggest candy-store there ever was) knew that he wanted to die on the day he stopped being impressed by the way that man responded to wonder. Captain America drew himself up, and threw a salute, which the figure in the greatcoat gravely returned.

 

Then Piledriver (seriously? SERIOUSLY !?) shook himself free from the remains of the wall through which Thor had punched him, and it was back to the fray.

 

***

 

“I checked our ravens out with SHIELD. Seems like Fury’s always been in the loop. He says that they’re the remnants of a rogue agency, with a knack for putting problematic material beyond harm. Fury’s been turning a blind eye to what they’re doing.” Tony paused. “And I just found a joke too obvious for me to make. Pepper will dance a jig when I tell her that.”

 

“They are people of power, whose power was taken from them. And yet they follow the warrior’s way, and will not yield. So, indeed, would I have wagered.”

 

“Yeah.”  Tony frowned. “The Hawk and Natasha think they’re people they can relate to. From those two, that’s not altogether reassuring. The good doctor wants to see the good in them, but he’s always kinda invested in finding the men inside the monsters. And I’ll sign my next twenty patents over to Microsoft if Cap doesn’t _know_ Greatcoat Guy from somewhere, although he’s not spilling. What do you think?”

 

Thor smiled. “I think that Tony Stark worries for his friends. And I think this pleases me.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Tony Stark has a heart.’ Shout it out to all the corners of the world that Pepper’s somehow missed. But what’s your take?”

 

Thor scratched his chin. “Do Midgard’s skalds yet sing of my father’s ravens?”

 

“Oh good. A saga. Will there be vowels? Please let there be vowels.”

 

“Huginn and Muninn. Thought and Memory. Their place is with the slain, the vanquished, the half-forgotten. But their eyes are keen; and their wits are sharp; and but for them, the Aesir would be blind.” Thor rested his hand on Mjölnir, and looked up. “Cherish our ravens, Tony Stark. All powers pass. Thought and memory are what remains.”

 

FINIS

 


End file.
